I can't dance. Like, at all.
I have this theory that it's because in my formative movement years - about age 10 onwards, when puberty is kicking your body out in all kinds of directions and you have to figure out how to walk again - I was in Taekwondo.
In Taekwondo, I was taught pattern work, which when done at full speed, looks like a kind of dance. But it's not, because you don't really flow from move to move. You do the move, you hold - "Just long enough for someone to take your picture," my teacher would say - and then you do the next move. I don't have flow because I never really had to learn to string everything together. Dancing is about flow, and your whole body working in concert, and I never learned how to do that.
When I dance, I look like either a marionette with half the strings cut, or a sleepy koala that was just given a shot of espresso. It depends on the music.
I'd still like to learn the Canadian Stomp some day.
It occurs to me, belatedly, that this is not just my perpetual ear worm - it's also the Wife of Bath's theme song. You know, if the Wife of Bath was Canadian and in possession of a pair of stompin' cowboy boots.